


The Colour Green

by kooili



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Jealousy, Ring-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooili/pseuds/kooili
Summary: It’s a busy night at Albie’s. A visiting conference has descended on the bar, along with a blast from Serena’s past. The conditions are not helped by the emergence of Bernie’s green-eyed monster.





	The Colour Green

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the (now proved non-canonical) Ring-on-a-Chain universe.

 

Albie’s was packed and Bernie found herself carefully picking her way through the sea of bodies to avoid bumping into one. She looked around, frowning at the unexpected crowd, looking for a familiar face. She smiled when she caught sight of Fletch squashed up in a corner at the end of the bar and headed towards him.

“Busy night.”

Fletch grunted and rolled his eyes. “Some NHS bureaucrats’ conference. The suits on a field trip into the real world of medicine. We’ll probably get guidelines on how to increase efficiency by recycling bin bags once they’re done.”

Bernie snorted in agreement and smiled at the bartender when her usual order arrived a moment later. She mounted a stool and took a large sip of her drink before setting it back down.

Fletch craned his neck over his shoulder. “She’s leaving you unsupervised tonight, is she?” He took a sip of his beer before flashing her a sideways grin.

Bernie tried her best version of a Serena glare but failed miserably. “There was a last-minute admission.”

“Take it it wasn’t anything exciting then.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t take two consultants to deal with a football injury.” Bernie’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly but Fletch picked up on it immediately, only because he was looking for it.

“And Serena offered to stay? Did you have to arm wrestle her for it?” It was obvious from the grin on his face that he was being facetious.

Bernie tilted her head and smiled, conceding graciously to his jibe. It had been a running joke since the infamous Dickie incident and Fletch had since claimed it as his prerogative to tease.

“Don’t you start.”

Fletch snorted loudly before taking another sip of his drink. “I guess we know who won this time, eh?”

****

Serena stripped off her gloves and drew the curtain open. The patient had a large bruise along his side to go with a hairline fracture on a rib but of more concern was the bump on his head. He probably needed nothing more than a healthy dose of painkillers and time to get him back up on his feet, but it never hurt to keep an eye on a head injury.

“Thirty minute obs, please Lou,” she said. “He can be discharged in the morning, all being well.”

Lou nodded, scribbling the instruction into the patient’s chart. Serena stretched the kink out of her back and groaned in relief that it wasn’t anything worse that needed surgical intervention. Her day was done as far she she was concerned and she was determined to leave before another emergency turned up. She was halfway across the ward when a slouching figure looking in her direction from the nurses’ station caught her eye.

Serena blinked and looked again. It had been a while but the face staring back at her was all too familiar.

“Robbie?”

He straightened himself and grinned broadly. “Hi Serena, it’s been a while.”

She smiled as she walked towards him, out of politeness and habit more than anything else. She hadn’t forgotten his last visit to her ward, when he’d boorishly barged in brandishing her underwear for everyone to see. Only the fact that he’d immediately had a cancer scare - and the fact that she wasn’t quite herself, lovesick and heartbroken over Bernie Wolfe - had saved him from the sharp edge of her tongue.

“What are you doing here?”

Robbie nodded toward the bay Serena had just left. “One of the boys hurt himself during footy practice.”

It was silly but Serena had to hold back a sigh of relief that that was the reason for his presence and nothing else.

“He’s holding up pretty well, but we’ll keep him overnight for observation. What happened?”

Robbie shrugged. “Tried to do an impression of Ronaldo and landed badly. “

“Ouch.” Serena winced. “And you’re playing the good Samaritan?”

Robbie grinned sheepishly. “I might have been the one who made him lose his footing in the first place with a poorly timed tackle.”

Serena quirked an eyebrow.

“Okay, I couldn’t stop my run in time and crashed into him feet first.”

Robbie turned a little pink as Serena broke out laughing in response. He scratched the back of his head, looking suitably embarrassed.

“Oh dear, looks like we won’t be seeing you in the Premier League any time soon, will we?” Serena quipped.

“No, I suppose they’ll have to manage without me. And, if I’m honest...” He paused, shifting a little nervously. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

Serena was immediately guarded. “Oh?” They had remained friendly, though distant, after their last encounter. Robbie was disappointed at her honesty about how she felt but took it with good grace in the end. Still, there was that tinge of trepidation tugging at her mind. She pushed it away as she reminded herself that it had all been a lifetime ago and they had both moved on - well, she certainly had anyway.

“You must be at the end of your shift. Why don’t we catch up over a drink at Albie’s? My treat.”

Serena tilted her head and pondered his offer. She must have been growing mellow because she found herself nodding with a smile. “Give me a minute to get my things.”

****

“Hullo.” Fletch’s raised his head, not unlike a meerkat in Bernie’s opinion, and it was enough to make her turn her eyes in the same direction.

Bernie’s heart swelled at the sight of Serena, face pink from the cold and devastatingly gorgeous as always. She was about to raise a hand to signal her location when she realised that Serena wasn’t alone. Her eyes narrowed, first in curiosity and then in suspicion. The latter was predicated by the fact that Serena seemed to be enraptured by her companion. She threw her head back in laughter at something he was said and Bernie’s eyes narrowed further.  

“Who’s that?”

Fletch took another sip of his beer and mumbled a vague, “what?”

“That man with Serena.” Bernie squinted a little harder and gestured towards the pair who had taken seats in a booth at the other end of the pub. “Do you know who he is?”

Fletch set his drink down before craning his neck in the direction she was pointing. He stared and cleared his throat nervously before answering. “Oh, that’s Robbie.”

Robbie.

The cogs turned rapidly and in spite of the whisky in her system, Bernie managed to put two and two together within seconds.

“That’s Robbie.”

Fletch nodded. It felt redundant confirming a fact he’d just stated seconds ago but he wisely decided that it wasn’t the best time to point that out, considering the look on Bernie’s face. She stared a little longer, almost as if she was hoping to be caught. Fletch would have put good money on the fact that Bernie was just angling for an excuse to leap off the stool and join them the moment she was. But her attention went unnoticed and Bernie finally turned and faced forward again, the tendons in her neck tense and twitching. The remainder of her tumbler was dispatched in a swift gulp and she immediately signalled for another.

“I’m sure he’s as boring now as he was when Serena showed him the door,” Fletch offered. Bernie attempted a vague smile but her insides were in shreds imagining the worst.

She felt her phone vibrate a fraction of a second before the musical notes started to play. Her hand rifled through the pocket of her coat and pulled out her mobile. The volume increased and although Fletch wasn’t exactly a connoisseur of classical music, he recognised the familiar strain of Vivaldi’s Spring as Bernie stared at the screen. Her face was unreadable but her finger wavered over the screen instead of pressing the obvious button. Technology decided for her in the end as the tune stopped after the prescribed amount of time.

Bernie frowned and, for a moment, Fletch thought that she’d do the obvious and return the missed call, but she didn’t. The phone landed with a thunk face down on the bar as she reached for her drink again. Fletch felt he should say something, anything to quell the darkening storm that was gathering in Bernie’s head but something caught his attention and he stopped, sitting up a little straighter.

“Look lively,” he muttered and nudged Bernie with his shoulder.

Her reflexes were proportionately slowed by the amount of ethanol in her system and Serena was right next up to her by the time she swivelled the stool round.

“Hello stranger. I should have known that you wouldn’t answer in time. As always. I thought you’d gone home.” Her voice was warm and, in any other circumstance, Bernie would have responded with a smile and a touch.

Not tonight.

“I should have, but then I’d have missed out on all of this. A sight for sore eyes, eh?” Bernie’s tone was sarcastic, rough and the complete opposite of the sentiment of her words.

The smile on Serena’s face faded as she restrained her impulse to give Bernie the hug she had originally planned. She picked up on the glazed look in her wife’s eyes, the empty tumbler on the bar, and sighed. Serena glanced at Fletch who responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick nod towards the booth she and Robbie were sharing.

Serena heaved another sigh, running a hand through her hair out of habit. Bernie slouched as she shifted her gaze away from Serena. The surface of the bar was suddenly fascinating. She stared at it and started fiddling with the coaster her drink was sitting on.

“Bernie…” Serena’s voice was soft and gentle.

Bernie’s fingers continued picking at the damp cardboard as she stared stoically ahead.

Serena didn’t want to resort to this but she knew she had to. She drew a breath and imagined a stern, no nonsense version of herself speaking to a petulant child.

“Berenice Griselda Wolfe.”

Something snapped in Bernie’s head. Perhaps she’d just had enough time to stew. Or it may have been because the sound of her name enunciated in that particular tone of Serena’s voice was finally piercing through the all-consuming fog. Whichever it was, Bernie decided that the grain of the countertop had had enough of the scrutiny. Her eyes were slivers of hard obsidian by the time they latched onto Serena’s. “Enjoying your date?”

Serena had expected a hint of discontent, possibly even a peek of jealousy, but it was apparent that the green-eyed monster was on the rampage tonight.

“What on earth are you on about?” It had been a while but Serena was well acquainted with where this was heading and steeled herself for the inevitable.

Bernie let loose a derisive snort. ‘Oh, I think you know. Or have you forgotten all about the elephant,” she exaggerated the hard consonant of the T to prove a point, “in the room?  Maybe elephants are now your favourite animal."

Serena groaned in exasperation. She loved Bernie more than life itself and she knew Bernie loved her just as much. She would go through hell and back for her but she still felt helpless every time this particular beast reared its ugly head.

“You’re being-”

“Oh, please, don’t let me ruin your evening. You must be having so much fun reminiscing over old times.” Bernie was on a slippery slope but she couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to.

Serena squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and drew in a deep breath. It was near impossible to get through to Bernie when she was determined to be belligerent, but she had to try one last time.

“I don’t know how much of this is you and how much is the whisky, but you need to calm down and listen to me.”

Bernie took a breath and, for an instant, for a microsecond, there was something tugging at the logical part of her brain and it was telling her that all she needed to do was keep her mouth shut and let Serena speak.

She chose to ignore it.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you away from Robbie’s delightful company. Besides, we were just in the middle of talking footy, weren’t we Fletch?” Bernie threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him towards her.

Fletch’s face was a mixture of amusement and despair. He sighed with relief when Serena nodded and gave him an apologetic smile. Her face hardened again as she shifted her attention back to Bernie.

“I am just having a drink with an old friend and I would like you to join us. Once you’ve decided that you are capable of being civil.”

Serena shot her one last piercing glare before turning on her heels and storming back towards the booth. As if on cue, Robbie reappeared with a beer in one hand and a large glass of red wine in the other. Bernie was still seething from the sting of Serena’s words but she couldn’t help the wrenching feeling in her chest as she watched Serena accepting the drink and flashing Robbie a wide smile.

****

“You should just go over.” Fletch prodded when Bernie finally turned back to face the bar after perhaps the dozenth time she’d ‘subtly’ glanced over to the booth. She shot him a look of disbelief and continued her examination of the countertop.

“Why should I?” she finally muttered defiantly.

“Because you know you want to,” Fletch offered and Bernie’s answer came out in pure reflex.

“No idea where you’re getting that from.”

Fletch was about to explain when Bernie twisted round again to sneak another peek. The crowd was thinning out and she could only afford to watch for a few seconds without the risk of getting caught. And damn if she’d allow Serena the satisfaction of catching her looking.

“I rest my case.” Fletch swerved away just in time to avoid Bernie’s elbow. “Look, either go over or phone your osteo in the morning. You’ll do your neck in if you keep this up.”

The music in the background died off as a couple in the corner flicked through the list of songs on the jukebox. Serena’s laughter drifted towards the bar and Bernie squeezed her eyes shut as the knots grew in her stomach. She nudged her stool round a fraction - to stretch her legs she’d say if anyone asked - and managed to catch a snippet of Robbie’s voice.

“... a fine woman and it’s about time someone put a ring on that finger.”

Bernie swung round abruptly, surprising her companion with her sudden motion. Her chest was filled with a messy jumble of emotions and the room started to sway. Bernie searched wildly for something to ground her, something to calm her before she lost it or did something she’d regret. There was a sip of amber liquid left in her tumbler and she grabbed it like a lifeline.

Fletch opened his mouth to ask if she was okay but was distracted halfway through the action. His eyes widened and his face was a picture of shock and disbelief. He turned round and stared openly, not quite believing what he was seeing. “Crikey.” He grabbed Bernie’s shoulder and twirled her round. Maybe she’d be able to tell him that he was hallucinating and he wasn’t looking at Robbie handing Serena what looked remarkably like a ring in a velvet box.

However, from the look on her face, she was seeing the same thing and not quite believing it either.

“Oh Robbie, it’s gorgeous!”

Bernie didn’t believe in violence in any shape or form, having been well acquainted with its aftermath in her line of work. She’d mended enough broken bodies to know that all it took was a single moment of uncontrolled rage, one instant of random bravado to cause irreparable devastation. The oath she’d taken at the start of her vocation had always sounded in her head as clear as a bell and she was proud to have held it true each and every day since.

Until now.

She blinked and the roiling emotions in her gut and in her chest started to gather into a singular thought. It grew exponentially, seeping its way from her head to the tips of her limbs. Her fingers squeaked as they clenched the glass a little tighter. Perhaps this was what it felt like to lose it. She had never understood it before, but she did now. There wasn’t an action plan, no idea of what she was going to say, but it would be a cold day in hell before anyone propositioned her wife and got away with it.

Bernie took a deep breath and noticed that Fletch had instinctively shrunk away with a distinctly terrified look on his face. The muscles of her hand tightened further, squeezing the tumbler as if it were a stress ball, before she finally slammed it back down onto the surface of the bar. Bernie was about to push herself off the stool and stride across the room when she realised that Fletch was staring at her.

At her hand, to be exact.

Alcohol must be as a good an analgesic as it was supposed to be because she could see blood streaming across her palm but felt no pain. In fact, it was as if she was looking at someone else’s hand and her brain automatically transitioned into work mode. The cut was deep. The glass must have severed one of the digital palmar arteries, judging from the copious amount of blood flooding her hand. She looked a little closer and discovered that the gash was slightly larger than she’d initially thought. There was probable injury to the superficial arch as well. It would need stitches. Bernie shifted and flexed her hand and that was when she realised that it wasn’t the alcohol but the initial shock that had been numbing her. Suddenly her hand felt like it was on fire and the blood was starting to drip off her palm onto the floor.

Fletch was there in an instant with a makeshift bandage - a bar towel - and he shoved her hand into it as he pulled it tight around her wrist. “Serena!” he bellowed, making Bernie wince in pain.

“Steady on Fletch, I don’t need a perforated eardrum as well.”

His reply was short and tinged with concern-fuelled anger. “You need a bloody smack is what you need. What the hell did you do that for?”

The pain in her hand was now radiating up her arm and it was doing a sterling job of clearing the mist that had been surrounding her brain. The broken pieces of what used to be a glass tumbler were scattered over the surface of the bar. A few smaller shards were stuck to her fingers but the blood there was superficial and her skin seemed intact.

Bernie was about to flick the splinters away when she sensed Serena’s presence and stopped.

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

In spite of her exclamation, she took Bernie’s hand and cradled it in her own, carefully picking away any glass she could see.

Bernie peeked up from under her fringe and her heart sank at the look of worry on Serena’s face.

“Serena…”

“This is going to need stitches. Fletch?” He was by their side in a second. “Will you take her up to AAU and keep this tourniquet on tight ?” Serena’s mouth was grim, her brow creased with worry. “I’ll get my things and be right up.”

****

“At least the alcohol has kept the wound relatively clean.”

Bernie winced, partly from the residual pain but mostly from the sharp edge of Serena’s voice. She was sober enough to know that the best thing she could do was stay silent and look remorseful.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this. I’m not even supposed to. I should have sent you to the ED and given an F1 on their first week some practice.”

Serena stopped and picked up a pair of tweezers to remove a glint of glass that had caught her attention. When the offending sliver was removed, Serena went back to the work of closing the wound.

“Luckily for you, I rather like your hand and would prefer it doesn’t end up looking like origami patchwork.”

Bernie lifted her head and mumbled a faint thanks.

“Oh, she speaks.”

“I’m sorry.” The reply was faint and contrite.

Serena paused and stared at her for a moment. Bernie had that look on her face, the one that reminded Serena of a fluffy puppy begging for its belly to be rubbed. She was on the edge of giving in and leaning in for a kiss - god knows she wanted a taste of Bernie’s skin - but managed to stop herself.

“You should be.”

Serena tied off another stitch and examined her work, angling Bernie’s palm towards the light for a moment before she decided that her job was done. Gently, she cradled the hand and eased it back onto a cushion of sterile dressing sitting on the treatment tray.

“We’ll need to get this bandaged up to make sure the stitches hold.”

Serena peeled off her gloves and started rummaging through the trolley for what she needed. Bernie knew she should say something but all of the words that came to mind choked in her throat. She wanted to apologize, admit to the stupidity of her actions and her jealousy, but anything she could do now seemed redundant. Serena already knew all of this and wasn’t demanding an explanation. Perhaps, she thought bitterly, the road to absolution started here. Not with heated emotions and loud arguments. No, Serena had chosen her weapons and they were far more scathing than any amount of angry words and raised voices could ever hope to be. Quiet hurt and disappointment.

Serena finally found what she needed, her fingers having already dismantled the thin plastic holding the roll of cloth intact. Bernie tried to help by stretching her fingers out but the pain was intense and she drew in a ragged breath.

“It’s going to hurt for a while,” Serena said as she unravelled the strip of fabric. “The lidocaine will be wearing off,” she added unnecessarily, fully aware that Bernie knew this fact better than most people. Trauma was her bread and butter after all.

Bernie’s breath hitched the moment Serena lifted her wrist and started winding the bandage around her hand. She closed her eyes and savoured the sensation of Serena’s fingers against her pulse. It was then that she realised how much she’d missed the privilege of Serena’s closeness, the feel of her skin. It had only been hours but it felt like days, weeks. And since it was beyond her abilities to do anything in half measures - and why should she? -  it took screwing up in the most dramatic fashion for her to realise what she’d been foolishly taking for granted.

_Bernie, you stupid, stupid idiot._

Bernie stiffened when Serena finally tugged the end of bandage taut before securing it with a clip.

“That should keep it out of trouble for a while.”

“Serena, I…”

Serena shook her head and squeezed Bernie’s wrist gently before letting go. “Not now.” Bernie’s heart sank a little further and her eyes darkened as a wave of panic hit her. Had she gone too far this time? Her thumping heart only started to slow when Serena’s face softened a fraction. “You must be tired. Let’s get you home.”

****

They had talked about this in the early days. Bernie couldn’t remember when but she was fairly certain it had started with a random anecdote she had read about a man whose secret to longevity was that he had plenty of exercise from fifty years of long walks every time he and his wife fought. He’d said he wouldn’t come home until he was no longer angry.

_Never go to bed angry with each other._

They had agreed that it was a fluffy and sweet story. Serena went so far as to declare it over-simplistic and unrealistic. Bernie’s mouth twitched as she remembered Serena’s exact words.

“Not every situation is that cut and dry. I rather think that a healthy dose of emotion goes a long way to clear the air. Better out than in.”

Bernie had disagreed and that had, ironically, set the stage for a challenge and some empirical data gathering. She was hellbent on disproving Serena’s arguments. It hadn’t been all out war but they had gone to bed feeling somewhat disgruntled with each other. There was the usual goodnight kiss but instead of settling into the warmth of Serena’s body, Bernie had turned over onto her left side. She wasn’t expecting Serena to follow suit and spoon up against her - she rarely did that anyway, preferring to sleep on her back - but when Serena turned the other way and snuggled in to her pillow with a sleepy grunt, it felt that she had deliberately deprived Bernie of her touch.

_Never go to bed angry with each other._

Bernie barely got any sleep that night. She stretched her back and limbs as she pulled herself out of bed when the alarm sounded in the morning, feeling beaten and worn. Later that day, once they had agreed that they were mutually at fault for the momentary fall out, they had talked, laughed and finally wrapped their arms around each other. Once the silliness of their argument was set aside, Serena even deigned to admit that she had had an equally fitful night. It was then that they struck the promise. No matter what, they would never go to bed angry with each other again.

Bernie dragged a final puff before dropping the end of her cigarette onto the grass. The night air was cool and she pulled her fleece a little tighter around her with her uninjured hand. This was her metaphorical walk in the park. Not by choice, but she was hardly in a position to argue when Serena suggested she that she cleared her head before coming to bed.

She lifted her bandaged hand and curled her fingers tentatively. A bolt of pain shot up her arm. She relaxed her hand and felt the pain recede almost immediately. They’d made a stop on the way home and Serena had emerged from the pharmacy with a bagful of supplies. The short journey home had passed in silence and it wasn’t long before Serena turned off the ignition after they finally pulled up into the driveway. Bernie had wavered momentarily as she pushed herself out of the car, clinging onto the door for a moment to steady herself. She’d had confirmation seconds later that she was partially redeemed when Serena’s arm had snaked around her waist in support.

Their eyes had met and Serena had held her gaze briefly before propelling the both of them forward towards the house. “Let’s get you inside.”

Bernie had wanted nothing more than to apologize and grovel if it meant Serena would forgive and forget her stutter of monumental stupidity. She should have known it wouldn’t be so simple. Serena had rustled through the drawers once they were in the bedroom, and pulled out a top and Bernie’s favourite fleece. She’d muttered something about Bernie getting changed and taking a breath of fresh air before disappearing into the ensuite. And, in spite of what Bernie would prefer to believe, Serena wasn’t punishing her. It wasn’t spite, nor was it petty tit for tat.

Why resort to that when self-recrimination was far more efficient, after all?  

Bernie’s breath materialised into a thin mist at her last exhale and she decided that it was time to go back inside. The heated air in the kitchen hit her body and she groaned at the comforting warmth. Her hand was still throbbing but Bernie was determined to wear it like a badge of honour instead of doing the sensible thing. It felt apt to suffer for her sins instead of taking the easy way out and quelling the pain with medication. That was until something on the kitchen counter caught her eye. Serena had been down and, judging from what she’d left, had anticipated her partner’s penchant for punishing herself.

Trust Serena to turn something as simple as paracetamol and water into a romantic gesture. 

She popped the tablets into her mouth and washed them down with a gulp of water. Bernie lifted her injured hand again and the pain was less this time. It was purely psychological, of course - the medication hadn’t even entered her circulation. Perhaps, Bernie thought, it was because the knot in her stomach was unravelling knowing that Serena’s anger had abated and she was on the road to forgiveness.

The bandage covered her entire palm and anchored round her thumb. She stared at her fingers, minutely flexing them and feeling the tug on her stitches. She frowned. Something was missing. She didn’t know why she hadn’t wondered before but, then again, being caught up with irrational jealousy and mutilating her hand was extremely distracting.

Her ring.

The gold band hadn’t often left her finger since the day Serena slipped it on with a shy smile to the thunderous whoops and applause of their friends. Suddenly, she felt naked and vulnerable.

Had she lost it? In her stupidity and stupor?

Bernie took a deep breath and forced herself to stop panicking and think. The events of the night were just a smear in her memory. She remembered Fletch muttering at her for being a complete pillock as they made their way back to AAU. She remembered being shoved through the double doors of the ward as the bright crimson stain on the towel grew larger with each passing moment.

She had been sitting on a bed holding her injured hand when Serena arrived moments later and barked at Fletch to gather the necessary supplies. Bernie couldn’t think when she might have lost the ring but between the pain, the blood and Serena’s recriminating glare, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had.

_Yup, when Bernie Wolfe fucks up, she does it spectacularly. Kandahar style._

She sighed and decided it was definitely time to write the day off, mostly because she was practically dead on her feet and partly so that she couldn’t mess anything else up. A desperate thought flitted through her head as she climbed up the stairs - perhaps Serena had her ring and she would find it sitting on her table by the bed where it usually lived on the rare occasions she removed it.

The bedside lamp was still on when she padded into their bedroom and a quick glance yielded nothing, confirming her worst fears. Serena was curled under the duvet on her side and was, judging from the even rise and fall of her breathing, fast asleep. Bernie sank onto her side of her bed as gently as she could so as not to wake her wife. The mattress dipped and shifted as she started to remove her fleece and discovered that it was easier said than done with her left hand currently the size of an oven glove. Bernie cursed softly as she gingerly peeled the sleeve off the bandaged limb, sighing in relief when she finally managed to extricate her arm.

The tablets were definitely in full effect as the pain was now reduced to a dull ache. Her eyelids grew heavy and closed the moment her head hit the pillow. She was vaguely conscious of some movement from Serena’s side of the bed but sleep beckoned and her battered body and mind were powerless to do anything but acquiesce.

****

It wasn’t the alarm that woke her. Rather, a mild ache that gradually grew into dull throbbing pain pulled her out of the stupor of sleep. Bernie groaned as she shifted. Some time during the night, she had ended up on her stomach with the bandaged limb resting on Serena’s middle. She shifted again, hoping to find a more comfortable position and the motion stirred Serena. Her eyelids cracked open a fraction.

“Sore?” Serena’s voice was rough with sleep.

Bernie nodded and found herself pulled a little closer into Serena’s body. A hand slipped under the thin fabric of her top and started stroking up and down her back in a gentle soothing motion. Bernie tangled their legs together and tucked her chin into Serena’s hair, breathing in the comforting scent of her wife.

“I’m sorry.” Bernie felt like a broken record. Those two words seemed to be the only thing she was capable of saying since last night.

There was a pause and for a moment, Bernie feared that Serena wasn’t ready to reply, wasn’t ready to forgive.

Serena’s answer, when it came, was murmured into Bernie’s chest. “I love you.” She didn’t have to look up to know the expression she was certain Bernie was wearing on her face - relief tinged with a hint of confusion at the non sequitur.

Bernie had been expecting anger or at the very least chastisement of her irrational behaviour. Her response was spontaneous.

“I love you too.”

Serena slid her body up a little, careful not to jostle Bernie’s injured hand. “It’s not always easy,” she teased, “but I love you and I always will.”

Their eyes met and Bernie saw the love shining through, but it was tinged with a hint of sadness and frustration. Bernie’s heart ached. Every excuse she had prepared to explain her reaction last night disintegrated into a thin air because nothing, absolutely nothing could justify what she’d done. She was ashamed of the hurt she had caused.

“I’ve messed things up again, haven’t I?”

Serena measured her next words carefully, knowing her wife’s amazing ability for self-recrimination. “No. All you had to do was ask and I would have explained.”

“I don’t think I deserve that privilege after acting the way I did,” Bernie mumbled morosely and Serena’s heart sank. This was exactly what she was trying to preempt. Her tone brooked no argument and Serena wasn’t about to let Bernie wallow in self-hatred and pity.

“It isn’t a privilege. I thought you would know by now that you can ask me anything. Pretty sure that was implied in the vows.” There was a hint of a smile buried in Serena’s answer and Bernie latched onto it like a dog to a bone.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Bernie pursed her lips and tried to think of the best way to frame her question but eventually gave up and settled for the first thing she could think to say. “So, Robbie…”

Serena tilted her head, inviting her to continue.

“I guess it caught me by surprise. Seeing him with you.”

“Why?”

“What?”

Serena’s lips quirked upwards as she repeated her question. “Why were you surprised?”

Bernie gave her a pained look. “You know why. You had a relationship and he’s your-”

“No, darling. Not is: was,” Serena cut her off, wincing at the memory. “And yes, we had a regrettable dalliance but that was a lifetime ago.”

Bernie’s reply was a disgruntled sigh. “According to you. I’m not sure he necessarily agrees.” Her mind flashed back to the night before and what she had seen and overheard.

“And does it matter what he thinks?”

Bernie barely stopped herself from giving the obvious answer but if the past twelve hours had taught her anything, it was that a considered reply was preferable to barging in, foot in mouth first, as it were. She steadied her breath and counted to ten before grinding out her answer. “No. I suppose not.”

“Got it in one this time, Wolfe.”

A light flush rose in Bernie’s neck and she jerked back in reflex. It was a bad idea because the sudden movement nudged her injured hand off its perch on Serena’s body to fall into the dip between their bodies. Bernie bit the inside of her cheeks to silence the moan as a sharp bolt of pain shot through her arm, but a soft hiss escaped nonetheless. The colour drained from her face and the hiss grew into a whimper. Serena’s face furrowed in concern as she lifted the hand as gently as she could, raking her eyes over the bandage to reassure herself that nothing had come loose.  

“You are determined to break something, aren’t you?” Serena couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her voice.

Serena pondered, watching as Bernie’s breathing eventually evened out. She finally decided that her original plan to lead Bernie down the path of self realisation was flawed. The blonde was more than likely to cause her hand more harm or mentally beat herself into the ground before she got the message.

There was, Serena supposed, always a time and place for the good old-fashioned brick in the head solution.

“Robbie came in with the boy with the football injury and offered to buy me a drink for helping his friend. He would have bought both of us drinks had you not decided to...well.. ” Serena trailed off. There wasn’t any merit to reconstructing their conversation blow by blow.

“Oh.” Bernie’s expression lightened but a hint of doubt lingered. “But I overheard what he said...”

“What he said about what?”

Bernie couldn’t decide if her wife was being facetious or, for once, entirely clueless. “About the ring,” she finally muttered.

“The ring?” The cogs in Serena’s head whirred, finally clicking into place a second later. Serena couldn’t help chuckling as she repeated herself. “The ring.”

“I’m glad one of us is finding this funny.”

Serena heaved an indulgent sigh and placed a kiss on Bernie’s sternum. “It was a lovely ring.”

Bernie stared at her in mild confusion and was about to respond when Serena continued.

“You should have seen it. The jewellers did an exquisite job on the setting. Diamonds and rubies go so well together, don’t you think?”

It was then that she was absolutely sure that Serena was teasing - she had to be. She loved her wife and was battle-ready to serve whatever penance that was due but this was something else.

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Only a little. And only because you deserve it.” Her tone was gentle and warm. She wasn’t going to leave Bernie room to invent any imaginary anger or sarcasm when neither were intended.

“I don’t know about you but I take it personally when someone else tries to proposition my wife with a ring,” Bernie huffed.

Serena nodded in agreement. “Yes, I would take great offence at that as well. In fact it would be safe to say there would very likely be bodily harm involved. A pointed glare at the very least.”  

“But you just said…”

“Bernie, stop. Tell me what you think happened.”

Bernie drew in a deep breath through her nose. “He was going to propose,” she finally answered through gritted teeth.

“No, that’s happening tomorrow night. At that nice Italian place. You know, the one we were at last month?”

Bernie’s head jerked upwards and she stared at Serena.

“He wanted to book a table at Leandro’s but the ambience isn’t as nice,” Serena carried on, as if Bernie hadn’t reacted.

“What...?” Bernie’s expression was a strange mix of confusion, disbelief and apoplectic shock.

Serena took pity on her. “He’s proposing to his girlfriend,” she said. “As in the woman he’s been in a relationship with for nine months. Felicity, I believe. You berk.”

Bernie blinked as she took in this new information. She groaned. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes,” Serena agreed happily. “You are.” She threw her a mock-irritated glare. “What, you thought he’d appeared after over a year of nothing but the odd email with a burning desire to throw me over his shoulder and take me back to his cave?”

Bernie felt a flush rising in her face. All that tortuous logic sounded so ludicrous now that it was all put in perspective. “I would have,” she finally muttered in an attempt to regain the upper hand and redeem herself.

Serena smiled, letting her eyes sweep around the room before replying. “I wouldn’t really call this a cave. I rather like what we’ve done with the decor. It’s more of a cosy nook, don’t you think so darling?”

Their eyes met and, between Bernie’s relief and Serena’s amusement, they started laughing. Bernie nudged her good hand under Serena’s back and pulled her into an embrace. She buried her face in Serena’s chest and her reply ended up as an indistinct mumble.

Serena chuckled softly and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“I can’t believe you mutilated your hand over this. My big macho army medic.”

Bernie answered with a grunt but it was clear from the colour on her cheeks that she was just too embarrassed for words.

“I trust you implicitly and I know you trust me just as much,” Serena continued gently. This was a conversation they had had before and, as much as she wished she wouldn’t have to, she would say the words as many time as Bernie needed to hear them. “It doesn’t matter who it was or who you think it’ll be, I’m never going to want to be with anyone else.” She ran a finger along Bernie’s jaw and tilted her head upwards so their eyes met. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

She barely saw the sheen of tears glistening in Bernie’s eyes before their lips crashed together fervently: one woman asking for forgiveness and the other gently giving reassurance.

They finally pulled apart when the need for air made it impossible for either of them to carry on. Bernie opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat, until she saw the unconditional love in Serena’s eyes and they finally broke free in a husk. “That’s lucky for both of us, since you’re stuck with me too.”

Serena hummed her agreement. “And for future reference, I already own the only ring I’ll ever want or need.”

They lay entangled, their bodies moulded so perfectly that it was almost impossible to say where one ended and the other began. Serena was about to dip in for another kiss when she felt the change in Bernie’s posture. It was a subtle stiffening followed by a nervous breath.

“What is it?”

The question was so sure that Bernie wondered if there was anything about her that wasn’t laid bare to this magnificent woman.

“While we’re on the subject of rings,” she finally ventured, “I have a confession to make.”

“Go on.” Serena seemed less surprised than Bernie had expected but she couldn’t be entirely sure, given that her heart was pounding nervously.

“I might have misplaced mine.” Bernie tried to look anywhere but into Serena’s eyes.

“Are you saying you’ve lost your wedding ring?”

Bernie nodded sheepishly.  “It must have fallen off while, well... “ She lifted her injured hand gingerly. “I can’t find it anywhere.“

Serena stared at the the picture of misery that was her wife’s face and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I see.”

“Maybe someone picked it up at Albie’s and turned it in?” Bernie knew she was clutching at straws but she had to hope.

“Yes, well, maybe they did.” Serena ran a hand across her neck and tugged at the chain hanging round it. She pulled it forward and revealed her own ring and its twin nestled just above her breasts.

Bernie’s face transformed rapidly from confusion, to disbelief, to relief, then finally joy, each emotion coming swiftly on the heels of the last, not unlike the four seasons of a Scottish day.

“How?” she stammered, reaching out and fingering the rings as if to convince herself they weren’t an illusion or delirious diplopia.

“Fletch removed it when he was cleaning up your hand and gave it to me.” Serena paused, before adding pointedly, “for safekeeping.”

“Thank god.”

“Indeed.” The single word suggested unfinished business and it pulled Bernie down from the dizzying heights of euphoric relief. She flashed Serena her best puppy-eyed look, hopeful that it would be enough.

One unimpressed glance confirmed it wasn’t.

“So, instead of being a sensible adult and listening to what I had to say, you decided to be irrationally jealous - mutilating your hand in the process - and ended up losing your wedding ring to boot.”

Bernie gulped. Normally at this point she’d be wringing her hands, but that wasn’t an option this time. For obvious reasons. “Serena, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have...I wasn’t thinking,” she blubbered desperately.

Serena’s eyes gleamed. “I know. What shall I do with you darling?”

Bernie lifted her head and smiled hopefully. “Sign me off for a week until my stitches come out and I can operate again?”

Serena chuckled and shook her head. “Oh no. I have a much better plan.”

“Oh?” Bernie’s voice dripped with trepidation.

Serena nodded. “I think it’d be more efficient if you dealt with all the reports and _important_ paperwork while I pick up the slack in theatre.” She threaded her fingers through the digits of Bernie’s uninjured hand. “Administrative duties, darling. Only your right hand will be required.”

Serena’s smile widened at the look of horror on Bernie’s face but she couldn’t help having the last word. “We’re co-leads after all.”


End file.
